Wilson turns away from House’s office door, allows himself the luxury of an exasperated sigh. Cuddy is always telling him that House won’t change, that House epitomizes selfishness, that House is… House.

Maybe Cuddy's right. One favor; a simple consult. And he behaves like I’ve just stolen his iPod. But he can’t give up on House; he won’t.

Later that night, Wilson enters his office, exhausted. The first thing he sees is a bag of chips. It’s sitting atop two pages of a familiar scribble, and that scribble contains a diagnosis for his patient, and a detailed plan of care.